The Scent of Water
by xx.Anatidaephobia.xx
Summary: Arthur and Yao have been fighting forever, and seventeen years later Li refuses to stand for it anymore. Everything he tries seems to go wrong, so how will he ever pull the two nations closer together? And what will happen when he begins to discover his own feelings for a certian Icelandic? HongIce, eventual IggyChu; T to be safe.
1. Prologue

**A/N**: Hey all! I'm Anatidaephobia, in my first Hetalia fanfic ever! Woot! I'm a little over-excited, so much so that I didn't plan the rest of the chapters after writing this, but just deciding out of the blue that I wanted it to be multi-chaptered. So, I hate to spoil things, but I know that HK was raised by China for a little while before England took him, but this is for the sake of accuracy within the story, which is totally AU from life, except for the obvious references.

I'd like to warn against mentions of male pregnancy and rape, possible lemons, more mpreg, mild coarse language and violence, and whatever else may come. If something turns up in a chapter that I've failed to mention here, I'll warn about it in the beginning of that chapter, should that be necessary. I hate doing it, I feel like I'm spoiling things….

I'd also like to say that I do not own Hetalia, but only because of copyright laws and blah blah blah…. If I did, I'd totally be drawing China in pretty little gothic Lolita dresses and cowboy hats and stuff… not writing about him. I _could_, but if I go into that I'll start ranting, so let's just get to the fic, shall we?

**The Scent of Water**

Prologue

"China, I'm taking him, whether you sign the papers or not."

It was too much to take in all at once. It stunned him to his seat and he dropped his teacup, which bounced off his thigh and shattered on the floor, splashing hot liquid up onto his legs. But he didn't even flinch. He stared ahead, mouth hanging open only slightly, hands fallen uselessly into his lap. He couldn't even look at Arthur Kirkland who sat across the corner of the table, pouring himself another cup of green tea that Wang Yao had obviously deprived him of through his utterly shocked reaction. Arthur was absolutely unaffected by the news that had shocked Yao hard enough that his body went numb, but that was to be expected of the messenger. He sipped from his cup, staring over the rim at the Chinese man, who slowly dropped his head and doubled over to hide his face in his hands. Arthur was about to pour himself another cup and looked up out of the corner of his eye when he heard a short sob. Was Yao… _crying_?

"It's not that bad, China. You know he'll be safe with me, and besides all that he'll need his father growing up in this world. It's just the way things are." He reached over to pat the other nation's back supportively, but he was swatted away with a fierce amount of disdain.

"How can you say that, aru?" Yao looked up at him, tears staining his reddened cheeks, and bit his lip. The expression on Arthur's face reflected how stupidly incoherent he could be at times. "Don't you understand? He's my _son_."

"He's just as much mine as he is yours, China. It takes two." Arthur moved forward, brushed the tears off the older man's face and sighed heavily. It bothered him to see Yao cry like this, especially over something so trivial. He was going bankrupt thanks to the Treaty of Nanking signed after the First Opium War and he could barely take care of himself with the money that remained. How could he be expected to take care of a child as well? To take the boy off Yao's hands was simply trying to make up for what he'd done so that Yao could get back on his feet; that's all. Honestly, they both knew it was a stupid war, and that Arthur shouldn't have tried to force the trade of something that Yao just didn't want. Trade didn't work that way. Still, with the money he'd taken as compensation, he might as well take their child as well.

Yao stared at him in disbelief; disgusted by the way Arthur treated him now, as if nothing had happened… as if he hadn't twisted his arm behind his back and forced him down. Given… Yao had attacked first, but Arthur had definitely started it! And now he was taking his— no… _their_ son, because he didn't have the money to take care of himself anymore. The money that would have gone into raising his child was stolen away by England and their stupid war. To this, Yao had nothing to say, but he sucked in a breath, staring down at the adoption papers in front of him. Yes, he knew it would be stupid to attempt raising a child with an empty bank account, and of course it hurt. He had to do what was right for his child — it would be the only way the baby could grow up strong and healthy. There was no choice. Hand shaking uncontrollably, Yao signed the papers and stood abruptly, stalking out of the room, depression seething from every seam of his being. He held it in hard when his older son came running out of the next room and latched onto his mother's leg, begging to be picked up. Silently, Yao took Macau up on his hip and continued on his way to the small room at the back of the hall that the boys shared.

Macau squirmed when he heard a fussing sound coming from within the old cradle and dropped to the floor, curious of his younger brother's hushed sounds. "Mama, is Li okay?"

Yao was quiet, watching his baby and milking all the time he had left with him. He sank to the ground, carefully picking up the tiny bundle and cradling it close to his chest, trying to quiet him before the fussing turned into a full-blown crying fit. He didn't want to give Li to Arthur screaming — he could be so loud for such a small thing — because that would be unfair to both the young city and his father. He whispered gently to his baby, stroked his thick, dark hair off his forehead and bit his lip to try to hold back his tears when Li began to cry, his fair skin reddening and his tiny fists balling up like he wanted to hit someone. _He__knows_, Yao told himself, in denial of the whole situation. _He__knows__and__he__doesn__'__t__want__to__leave__me,__aru._ It was this thought that caused his breath to catch in his throat and escape as a hard sob as tears poured down over his cheeks. And he just sat there, crying. He had signed the papers, which meant that he was technically holding something that no longer belonged to him. His baby? No. Biologically, yes. Legally…? Everything was so complicated now with all these legal technicalities and paper work and modern travel. It had been so much more simple thousands of years ago when Yao had been young, when he'd lived next door to Ancient Greece, Ancient Rome, Ancient Egypt and Germania and watched them from a distance but never really interacted with them. Gods, but he'd been _so__young_.

Perhaps the worst part of this — what hurt more than simply losing Li — was Macau tugging on his sleeve, speaking quietly and slowly, naively. "It's okay, Mama. Li will be okay with Mr England, and you'll still have me." This was just adding insult to injury. Macau had already been adopted out to Portugal, and Yao was simply waiting for him to come pick up his prize. He just didn't know how to tell his older son this.

Maybe now was as good a time as any….

"Macau… because of rude Mr England… Portugal's adopted you, aru. He'll be here to pick you up within the week. I'm sorry, but I just can't take care of you, aru."

Macau was stunned silent. He stared at his mother with large brown eyes, hurt, filled with feelings of betrayal and hatred…. At least, that was what Yao told himself. He despised the fact that he had to give away his children to nations that could afford to care for them just so that he could continue living. Already he was accepting support from Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, which was embarrassing enough, but if he hadn't given up Li and Macau, he might have died trying to feed them while he starved himself. There was only one choice in that case. It would be better for them anyway… more culturally enriching. Of course Yao worried about them returning and not being able to speak Mandarin, but he would teach them. Macau spoke very little — he was still quite young — but Li was still literally speechless. What if he never learned the language?

"What did you say about 'rude Mr England'?" Yao jumped at the voice behind him, the unmistakable British accent and turned to look over his shoulder at the blonde-haired, green-eyed man. He wanted to glare, but really Yao was grateful that he was taking Li where the baby could have a chance at a real future. He was. He was still trying to convince himself, but he knew it was true. Besides that, Arthur was great with kids… he was probably happy to have one of his own. To prove this, he knelt behind Yao to look over his shoulder at the bawling infant. "Is this him?"

"This is Li Xiao Chun. Yes. He's your son, aru." To an outsider it would have looked like quite the touching family scene, but maybe Arthur was the only one in the small gathering who wasn't completely torn up inside. Yao watched tentatively as Arthur reached over his shoulder to stroke the baby's face, slipping a finger into his mouth to feel his gums. There was a measure of disbelief in Yao's bloodshot eyes as Arthur pulled a small flask of brandy out of his jacket, wet his finger, and began to rub Li's gums until the crying slowly dissipated. "What did you do, aru?"

"He's teething. The brandy just numbs the pain, that's all." The silence was tense and Arthur looked down at his pocket watch to remove himself from it. "Look, China…. I've got to be going. The train's leaving soon. I can't miss it."

"I know, aru."

Arthur stood. Yao stood. He didn't turn to Arthur for a long minute, and even then, he kept his eyes locked on the infant.

"Yao…. Can I have him? I need to leave."

He didn't move. He was trying to hold back the tears again. Why was he so weak? He was cursing himself in his mind, holding his child tight to his body, ignoring Arthur as much as possible.

"Yao."

"Give me another minute, England."

Politely, Arthur was silent again; he waited a minute and a half. "_Yao_. I'm going to miss my train. Would you please give me my son?"

And that was what did it. Yao broke. He cried, nearly dropping to the floor, but Arthur was able to snatch Li away from him before he hit the ground. For a moment he admired the beautiful baby — _his_beautiful baby — but the sight of Yao sitting on the floor in such a state of distress sent waves of guilt through his body and he replaced the baby in the cradle so that he could sit with Yao, holding him close to his chest. Despite his reservations and uneasy feelings toward Arthur, Yao couldn't help but ball his fists in the Brit's shirt, crying onto his shoulder without much regard for what he was actually doing. Arthur held him, resting his chin on Yao's head and closing his eyes. Yao didn't know it, but he felt terrible. Honestly, the orders had been from his boss, and if he could have gotten away with it, he wouldn't have participated in the war at all. Mind you… Yao's instigation _had_ tipped him off quite a bit. Rape… that was taking it too far, he knew, and he looked back on it shaking his head. Juvenile, to say the least. He wanted to say it was the opium, but that would just be blaming his wrongdoings on something that he could have controlled. He didn't have to smoke the opium. He didn't have to rape Yao or impregnate him and he most certainly shouldn't have had to take their son from him. He didn't want to. As much as he was concerned for this child, he was also concerned for his enemy. Yao had never really done anything wrong.

"I _am_ sorry, Yao. Really, I am," Arthur whispered, and he heard a sob that sounded curiously like his human name. He pulled Yao closer, held him tighter, drew a long and deep breath and… dammit. If he didn't get out of there soon, _he_ was going to cry. Still… he stayed and he waited for Yao to stop crying, to calm down, enticed him into smiling and brushed his bangs out of his face gently. He kissed the older nation's forehead, held his face and apologized once more. At last, he picked up the baby, and turned to leave. Before he could get very far, something else struck him, and Arthur stopped dead. "Yao, you gave me his human name, but no official name. Doesn't he have one?"

"Not yet, aru," Yao sniffled and wiped his eyes with a sleeve.

"I'll eventually need to register him for school. Part of the paperwork includes his official name…. Do you think you can come up with something?"

"You want me to give him his official name, aru?" And here Yao thought Arthur would try to steal that honour for himself when the time came. He was surprised at this and shook his head to clear it. "What about Hong Kong? I've been thinking about it for the last few months… and I think that's what I've decided on. Hong Kong."

"Good then…." There was a bit of an awkward pause where England just cradled Li to his chest, staring down at the big dark brown eyes from where they stared back at him curiously. God, but the child looked like his mother except for the obviously British eyebrows. Dark eyes, dark hair, soft pale skin…. He was quiet, but he watched the world carefully as Arthur left with him, curious about what was going on. He didn't cry when the train awoke him from a short nap, but he did fuss and squirm around quite a bit, something Arthur found quite frustrating, but he'd eventually get used to it. He learned that Li was quite independent as he grew up; he didn't want Arthur's help and didn't need it. He refused to acknowledge that Arthur was his father and that Yao was his mother, because this _Yao_ was just a story to him, someone whose face he'd never seen and who therefore had no meaning to him.

And he just… _grew__up_ with Arthur. He got older. He stayed isolated. And eventually… it was time for him to go home.


	2. Chapter One

**A/N:** Dedication of this chapter goes out to **Vine8Ky** for being the first of any response to this fic. Thank you for taking the time, unlike the other thirty people, just to Favourite! It means a lot to me! And also, to **PandaTeaLovers** for being the first to review! Keep up the Prussia-esqueness, Panda-chans!

Okay, about the chapter…. Bear with me. I myself found it to be poorly written, but I'm still trying to get the feel of the characters. I think I'm a pretty good writer, but it takes me a little while to get warmed up. If I suck, tell me honestly. If you want to review just to hate on it, go ahead. I love my feedback. Positive reviews are splendid, criticism and advice are even better, flames are also appreciated as I may use them to both heat my house and roast marshmallows.

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><p><strong>The Scent of Water<strong>

Chapter One

"I'm just getting sick and tired of having to spend every weekend travelling."

Really, it wasn't fair of his parents to be splitting him up like this, spending one week at his mother's place, and one week at his father's. Ever since the two had sat him down the one time Arthur had decided to accompany him to Yao's place, everything had made a little more sense to him — why Arthur insisted that he called him Daddy instead of England, and why Yao was so over-protective of him. It had all come pouring out around his fourteenth birthday, and relationships between the two had been strained like this ever since. The ridiculous part was that Li was turning eighteen in three weeks and neither of his parents seemed to care about anything other than fighting over whose house the party would be held at this year. Honestly, Li didn't _want_ a party for his birthday. He wanted to sit down with his parents and Iceland with a few home-cooked dishes and a cake made by Iceland's older brother, Finland, and just… talk. Have fun. Stoic as he might have seemed to them, Li's mind was awake and very much active, and he knew what he wanted.

"Why don't you just tell them?"

"I did."

Emil Steilsson sighed heavily and leaned back on the couch in the horribly bright living room. It wasn't like Emil wasn't the best person to talk to when you were dealing with people ignoring you… it was just that he probably wasn't the best person to _talk_ to, period. His simple solution was to get them drunk and leave them at the bar. Unfortunately, Li had rejected that idea because he really hated seeing his father drunk more than anything, and he knew that it would probably take half the bar before his mother even showed signs of how tipsy he actually was. It wasn't worth the time or effort. At this point, both were at a loss, and the only thing that could currently be done about it was their homework. Emil was often invited over for 'tutoring', especially when Arthur wasn't home, to give the two an excuse to hang out. It wasn't like Emil couldn't do the work himself, it was just that it did get lonely all by himself in the house across the street from England's place. Li couldn't imagine what it must be like having to take a boat to get to and from the bus stop every morning, but he was well aware that it kept Emil from school when the conditions weren't suitable for boating, and in the winter when the water was frozen solid enough there were other means of transportation.

"And what did they do?"

"The same thing as always." Yes, Li couldn't forget that evening — just one of many — when he'd felt it was time to confront his separated parents about his feelings of their abuse of him. Not abuse…. No, but they were still fighting over him, pulling him like taffy and then snapping him back together, twisting, and repeating. It was hard for him to express these things — after years of being emotionally worn like this, it was safe to say that he'd just stopped caring — but if one strained to understand, it was still there. Emotion. He was laden with it, heavily at that. The heaviest of those, once, were love and guilt. Love, because no matter how they treated him, like he was some kind of an object they were still his parents after all…. And then guilt… because the way Arthur and Yao both told the story, it was _his_ fault that any of this was even going on. Sometimes he wished he'd never been conceived, but that, technically was Arthur's fault. Even Arthur admitted that he'd made a mistake and that… that hurt. That was a kind of pain that was only fixed by his mother's soft words — _"__Even__still,__I__'__ll__always__love__you.__"_ And… it was nicer to hear it in his mother's smooth native tongue, a language he'd picked up quickly despite how Yao was always complaining that he might never learn properly at his age. It came natural, Li spoke his Mandarin fluently, and Yao laughed at himself because he had no idea what he had been so worried about…. Then he never spoke of it again just to cover the fact that his empty heartache had been there in the first place.

"Why don't you just—"

"Getting them drunk and dumping them at the bar isn't going to work, Iceland." It was probably the third time that night that Li had defeated that plan before the Icelandic could present it _again_, and to pass the time watching Emil handwriting his math homework, Li drew pictures of nude women on the margin of his own assignment. He knew he shouldn't… it was wrong, but…. It was just kind of something that happened, and he couldn't do anything about it… maybe.

"You could dig a hole and throw them in it, then toss them some rope and tell them to make a ladder." Emil shrugged, his eyes never lifting from the paper. Obviously, when it came to teamwork exercises and partnership activities, Iceland was completely clueless. But who could blame him, really? Li actually found it kind of cute, though he'd never admit it, and even still who was going to see it in those endless dark pits of eyes? It made him feel safe, in a way. Still, he shook his head to see what else his homework buddy could come up with.

Of course, this left a long silence, because good ideas for bringing together two nations are few and far between coming from a country who'd rather be isolated from just about everything that he could get away with. Even now, he had only come over because Hong Kong had promised that his father was out and probably wouldn't be back until after midnight, considering that tonight was pub night with the guys, and they were all going to do the same thing they did on every pub night…. That is, get in as soon as the pubs opened, drink until their liver threatened suicide, throw up on the way to the next pub, and repeat until one in the morning when the pubs closed and they were all forced to go their separate ways, finding their own ways home. More often than not Arthur was able to call a cab, but he had his days where he just stumbled home in the darkness whether it was because he'd lost his cell, forgotten it, or was just too damn drunk to hail a cab. These were the nights that Li would stay up and wait, just in case something happened, especially in the winter. He didn't need his father getting sick or frost-bitten or something else that was terribly tragic and he'd have to express his sympathy laden with sarcasm. It was his own fault, and he needed to pay the price. Yao was a different story. He didn't leave the house to drink, and he didn't often invite friends over to party, though occasionally he _was_ joined by some of the other Asian nations. It was usually quiet unless South Korea was there, and even if he wasn't Thailand almost always halfway made up for it. And when he was lucky enough, his older brother brought things home from Portugal, which was nice because Li didn't often get the chance to travel very far. He'd gone with Iceland to meet some of his family once, but that was it. The worst part was that Denmark and Norway's car had broken down so the two had to have England drive them. Luckily his driving wasn't as bad as his cooking, and for once in his life he was happy that his father wasn't Italy. Would he trade sane driving for delicious food? Not on his life.

"Write them letters."

The statement came out of nowhere, and took Li by surprise. "What?"

"Write them letters, Hong Kong. They can't ignore what they have to read. It's why books are more effective than speeches. It's why you're more likely to understand a story if you read it yourself than if you have it read to you. Besides the obvious fact that that's just lazy, wouldn't you assume that it's easier to ignore someone when they're talking to you than if they're writing down what they're expressing?" Once again, Emil shrugged, but this time he looked up and caught Li's eyes. The logic Iceland had given really couldn't be denied, and so without protest two sheets of lined paper were pulled from Hong Kong's binder, and he rested his pen on the first line. And he drew a blank. What do you say to someone when you want to tell them something without hurting their feelings? After another long silence, his pen was finally dusting over the page, sculpting out _something_, but they weren't his feelings. He was staring down at the page, but there was an absent part of him that didn't realize what he was doing until the damage had already been dealt. And Emil, satisfied with himself, went back to his homework until he noticed the irregular strokes of his friend's pen and looked up. "What are you drawing? I want to see." The silverette leaned over to look at the page and slowly wished he hadn't. His cheeks stained pink, he shot Li a look that caught the Asian's attention, and quietly added, "You're doing it again."

Unfortunately, they had been the last two sheets of lined paper in the book, so like it or not, someone was getting a nude model in the background of their letter. Yao was definitely the safer choice, and so… like an arrow shot from a bow, words written down and sent by express mail to your mother can never be unwritten.

Beginning with the respective parent, Li wrote each letter the exact same so as not to single anyone out and he tried to put everything in him into words. He failed miserably, however, and ended up only writing half a page to them, to the general tune of what appeared to be air sickness and something about long nights at the pub… and if you twisted it sideways and kind of read it that way, you might have seen him trying to express his love, but that wasn't how he had intended it to turn out. Still deciding to send the letters before he changed his mind, Li also included a request for a family meeting, no matter how stupid it sounded to either of them. And though he was dreading it, he knew it was probably for the best. It cleared his mind so that he could focus on Hamlet, anyway. It wouldn't be long before he bored of Shakespeare and Emil bored of calculus, and the two ended up being bored together, getting into the secret coffee stash hidden for the monster hangovers of Arthur's that just couldn't be fixed by anything else. And when they finished half a jar out of boredom, they watched some dry British comedy, raided the scone jar, turned down the lights, and realized that the two of them couldn't lay on the couch together without the two of them being a little close for comfort. Awkward? Definitely.

But they could live with that.


	3. Chapter Two

**The Scent of Water**

Chapter Two

"Li Xiao Chun, this is absolutely unacceptable, aru!"

If he'd heard it once, he'd heard it a thousand times, and even if it _was_ over the phone, it still had the same effect. "I am disgusted by your lack of modesty and that which you portray these poor young women, aru!" China paced the floor of his home, just barely able to contain the anger that was bubbling up inside him. Maybe it wasn't rage… it was… disappointment. He had never hoped that his son would end up hopelessly addicted to drawing explicit art, but then again he couldn't keep a watch on his son from so far away. He'd finally accepted that Hong Kong wasn't a baby anymore, and that he didn't need to be watched, but it didn't keep China from worrying. He sincerely wanted the best for his child, and wasn't that just the mother in him? Wasn't he allowed to worry about his baby? Long ago he'd given up on Macau, and didn't that just sound cruel? Macau had long ago returned but chose to travel back and forth from Portugal's place as he pleased, and now that he was an adult there was really nothing Yao could do to stop it. As one of the oldest among the Asians, and overall among the world, Yao wished that he had a presence that would command more respect, but in stead he let his boys walk all over him, and worst of all he allowed Arthur to take his baby away. _That_ was what this was really about. England had taken his child, and for that Yao could never forgive him.

"Ci Mu, please. I won't do it again." The monotone sounded even less convincing over the phone, with the added almost metallic quality, and Yao pulled the phone away from his head to stare at it as if Li might subliminally feel the expression on his face at the moment; and after a moment of trying without any obvious results, he held the cordless back up to his ear.

"I trust you, against my better judgement. Don't let me down again, aru." Of course, Yao was sure that Li didn't do it on purpose… like maybe it was some kind of magic British influence controlling his hand when he wasn't looking, or something. After all, British curses had caused his eyebrows to thicken up, so why couldn't it force him to draw pornography? This made Yao huff angrily into the phone, and in an instant he forgot all about the letter he'd thoroughly read and thought over before calling to complain about the nude lady in the background. "This is all England's fault, aru. When you come home next time you should stay for good."

"But didn't you—"

"He's been like this ever since I can remember! He's been forcing things on people since he was old enough to sail, and it's just about time someone put him in his place, aru! What kind of jerk tries to force drugs on someone and then forces _themselves_ on that person because they choose to resist peer pressure?" Yao chose to ignore the audible sigh that came in from the other end of the line and continue on his tirade without a care. Even if Li didn't say anything, he knew he was listening, and Yao admired that quality in his son. He prized the trait, knowing in his heart that he couldn't have possibly gotten it from Arthur at all. When did Arthur ever stop and listen to someone close to him just because they needed it? It just wasn't a British trait. He'd always been full of himself, doing things for his own benefit without much regard, if any at all, for those around him. It was actually kind of a wonder why Li had turned into a hollow shell of a person instead of a whiny bitch, but that was probably because Arthur had returned him just in time for him to be saved. It was completely unknown to Yao just what kind of a child Li had been, but he could guess that he son had been very British for the first few years of unfortunate life. He'd spoken in a strange half-British accent for a long time, which Yao was certain meant that he'd been either spending time with America or really trying hard with his Mandarin studies; the Chinese man would have liked to believe the latter, but refused to show any suspicions that this had anything to do with Alfred F Jones. "And besides all that, you know you're happier here, aru. What does England have that I don't?"

Exasperated and at the end of his quickly fraying rope, Li looked over his shoulder at the silverette crushing walnuts at the island in the kitchen and twitched the corners of his mouth in a generally downward direction. Emil was lucky enough to look up at this point and one of his eyebrows came up just a bit. "Iceland." A simple answer that would confuse his mother before he shoved the phone back down on the base a little more forcefully than intended, leaving Yao puzzled to why his son was acting this way on the other end. And what did he mean… _Iceland_? Arthur hadn't invaded and colonized Iceland, too, had he?

Obviously this meant that Yao would have to call Niklas Johansen, no matter how much it killed him inside. Iceland's brother deserved to know what was going on with his sibling, and Gods know there was no way Emil was going to call him for help. Maybe it rooted less from the actual desire to rescue the small isolated country, and more from the desire to keep someone else from suffering without their loved one as he had…. Or maybe he just wanted to destroy England in any way possible. That was quite plausible. He'd hit the talk button and was walking over to the table where the phone base was kept to look up Norway's number, but on the way looked down at the sheet of paper in his hand. Li couldn't actually feel this way, could he? _I__don__'__t__want__to__be__put__in__the__middle__of__your__fighting__any__longer.__I__don__'__t__like__either__one__of__you__over__the__other._ Yao shook his head and tried to look past the breasts directly behind this statement. Li must have been coerced into writing this. There was no way he'd ever come out with something like this on his own. Not that he wasn't intelligent enough, but more because China knew for a fact that his son loved him more. He'd said it was more peaceful in his mother's home, and it didn't rain nearly so often… and as much as he actually liked the rain, he wasn't sure he liked the darkness so much. He'd said that England was so downcast, but China could be so serene. It never crossed Yao's mind what came _after_ that part of the conversation, the reasons that he liked England just as much.

Yao didn't know it, but he wasn't listening to his child all as well as he thought he was.

"What was that about?" Iceland asked from the table, pushing past the shells of his walnut to find the shattered pieces of the prize in the center. He didn't even look up when Hong Kong pulled a stool up directly next to him and began cracking walnuts in his fist. It was just something he did out of frustration, but most people thought it was too cool to pick up on the true message.

He didn't even bother eating the nuts from the center, passing them on to his friend without looking up. His eyes were fixed on the bowl of fruit in the center of the island and he wished that he could melt it down with his vision. "He didn't even read it; he just read what he wanted to."

"Parents."

"I know."

Finally Emil sat up and grabbed his friend's wrist tentatively — even as close as they were, physical contact between them was scarce. Li had to look up at this, and would be lying if he said the intensity in Emil's gaze hadn't caught him off guard. They didn't have to say anything; both could hear the footsteps coming up the walkway outside, even through the rain, and turned to stare at the kitchen door, wondering who had just pulled in. Anticipating Arthur, Emil began to back away slowly and was just about to slip off his stool and head for the guest bedroom when the door flung open, and there stood Li's older half-brother, soaked from head to toe with the rain. Both of them sighed with relief, inaudibly, not that Alfred would have paid it any mind anyway. He just stood there, nearly stupidly, looking back and forth between the two and then grinned in a way that made Li shudder. He knew what was coming.

"Home alone are we? With your buddy?"

"The storm picked up before we got home from school. The water's too rough for Iceland to get home," Li explained, not that he felt he really needed to explain to Alfred, but he did anyway out of sheer politeness. In was taking everything in his power not to get up and leave the room, and he could see Emil already trying to slip out in the general direction of the guest room. Not a bad idea at all.

Alfred kicked off his boots and went over to sit by the slowly dying fire, grabbing a few odds and ends nearby to help breathe life back into it, and before long it was roaring again, and Alfred was standing next to it, warming his cold bottom. He talked for a while, completely ignoring his little brother and laughed at his own jokes, which made Li want to beat him up, but he knew that he'd lose the fight if it came down to it. There was no point in starting something he couldn't finish. How long was it that he and Emil had been having their own silent conversation when the kitchen door burst open? An hour at the least. Who's to say? Time passes slowly when you're bored out of your mind.

"Damn rain again."

And before Li had a chance to blink, Emil had vaulted over the back of the couch and had disappeared. He could be pretty agile when a reason presented itself. This, Li agreed, was a pretty good reason. The last time he'd seen Emil at his house, he ranted for almost fifteen minutes about the ash in his airways, and even though Emil had apologized, he still wasn't on good terms with Arthur after the fight over the cod years ago. It didn't make any sense to treat someone like that, especially if that person was significantly younger, but that was just Arthur being Arthur and there was nothing Li could do about it. Still, he was nice enough to greet England nicely, even though it was drowned out by Alfred's annoying-as-Hell voice.

"Oh, America, it's nice to see you here. Is something wrong?"

"Nah. My car broke down outside your house so I thought I'd stay until you got back and just take yours instead." Signed by the signature laugh of his, like everything was a joke, Alfred turned back to the fire and held his palms straight out to it.

Arthur just shrugged; it wasn't like it was completely uncommon that his adopted son just came over when he felt and took things without asking. It was a little irritating, but Arthur wasn't about to say he didn't love him anyway. Of course not. Just like he couldn't ever dislike Li's abuse of walnuts whenever Emil came over, and the pile of shells was evidence enough that Emil _had_ been over. "Li, would you care to explain?" And when Li noticed that he was pointing at the walnut shells on the island, he licked his suddenly dry lips.

"I won't do it again."

"That's a good boy." And he ruffled Li's hair in a way that he should have known that he hated. Of course, Arthur failed to notice that by immediately claiming he wouldn't do it again Li had managed to escape the explanation of Emil having to stay over due to the roughness of the waters. But that just gave him the chance to move onto what really mattered.

"Dad, did you get my letter?"

Of course, at the sound of the word so rarely spoken Arthur perked up, and smiled. "I saw it, yes; but I didn't get the chance to read it yet. Sorry, I've just been so busy lately. I'll tell you what — why don't we sit down and read it together?" As he spoke, he travelled over to the small table near the fireplace, and looked down to find that the crisp white envelope was missing in action. "Ah. I could've sworn I left it right here…. I don't know where it could have—"

And then he stopped, looking down at Alfred blankly where he'd sat back down in front of the fire. Oh the predictability. "You mean _that_ letter?" Alfred pointed into the fireplace where the letter had just been engulfed by flame, unable to be saved. Arthur and Li both stared at it, unable to express what they felt toward Alfred at that point. Li knew exactly what he felt — intense anger and thick loss with the crackling of the fire. The worst part was that Alfred sat there and laughed like it was absolutely hilarious.

"It's alright, chap. Why don't you just sit down and tell me what this is all about?"

But by this time Li had already stalked out of the room and had disappeared, leaving Arthur to blink at the empty space, almost hurt that Li had left like that without waiting to talk to his father. And what hurt the most wasn't for Arthur, but for Emil when he left his room to ask the very tense-looking Li how it had gone, and Li completely ignored him.

"Hong Kong…? Li, wait. What happened?" Emil rushed out of the room after his friend, grabbing his wrist and tugging hard to turn Li to face him.

The look that the Asian displayed, though it wouldn't look any different to anyone else, caused Emil's grip to loosen. He stood up straight and held his breath. "I need a less flammable method." Li turned and left, and Emil was abandoned to shrink away into his room. Somehow he just knew that this was partly his fault, even if Li didn't mean for it to come out that way.


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N:** Hey all~! I want to say thanks again for all the support, through reviews, favs, and alerts! Unfortunately, I'm sick with some strange mix of the flu, croup, and strep throat, so new chapters will be strained until I feel better and can catch up to all my role-playing stuff. Sorry! On the other hand, I'm trying to steer this away from being so Hong Kong and Iceland centered... Hopefully this will help. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>The Scent of Water<strong>

Chapter Three

"Well, it could have been much worse. England could have let you read it to him."

"I'm pretty sure that's what he had in mind," Li sighed, and rolled onto his stomach, looking over the foot of his bed where the Icelandic laid on his floor playing with his pet puffin. He frowned softly, watching as his best friend teased the bird with an anchovy, waving it back and forth in front of his face while he squawked angrily. It was a seriously terrifying bird, and the only reason Li was putting up with him was because of the storm that continued to rage on outside. Somehow the angry thing had made its way over, and now Li was having a Hell of a time trying to hide his friend and the puffin from his father. But wasn't that just life? It seemed like it was always raining in England lately, and if it hadn't been raining in China the skies were still overcast. Li had guessed already that his mother wasn't as happy as he tried to be, and that his father was just being British, and he felt like something had to be done about it. Every time he got the two together, he could feel this sort of tension and felt himself growing frustrated over the silence between. "It's not like it would have been a bad thing. He wanted to talk with me about it, and I was kind of hoping I'd get the chance."

"Why would you ever want to do that?"

Emil's question made Li lean back over the foot of the bed and stare in a way that could only mean to someone who understood that he was both surprised and worried about that response. Li was lucky to get along with his family as well as he did, though as far as he could see his family of Asians wasn't unlike Emil's family of Nordics, save for location on the Earth. Both were loud and obnoxious and had no sense of privacy whatsoever — sure Li's family was a little bigger, but who ever said that Emil's didn't make up for the size difference? Certain Nordics were loud enough, mean enough, terrifying enough, sickeningly sweet enough, and annoying enough to cover for all the Asians and British colonies they didn't have. That much was certain. He'd only met them once or twice, but he could tell that they must be even more fun drunk... And Emil said he liked to get them drinking and leave while they were distracted? Li would never do that to his family (not that he wouldn't try); and furthermore he couldn't imagine actually being able to do such a thing. He wondered how Emil ever managed to get home afterward, and figured he just walked even though he knew he could always call his friend for a ride, no matter the time of night. Or day.

"Unlike you, I actually kind of like my family." He watched that strike a chord with the Icelandic, and not a particularly nice one either. Still, as discordant as the Nordics were, he commended their ability to stay together. At least they had that over the Asians and British colonies. "I know that I'm never going to be able to get together with them and talk about what's on my mind... But maybe I can get them together just to talk together without me as a distraction..."

"You're seriously considering setting them up, aren't you?"

"Why not?" It wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had. "The only problem is finding something that will get both their attention and draw them in… something they both _want_ to go to."

"Or we could find someone who could force them."

It seemed that both had their brilliant ideas at the same time. Li rolled onto his back, his lips barely twitching upward in the corners while Emil sat up and leaned on the bed for support, finally giving up the anchovy to Mr Puffin. They both knew what they had to do to coerce Li's parents into getting together, and deciding on a location wouldn't be too difficult either. Before they knew it, they were writing out their plans together and scheming in every sense of the word what was turning out to look more and more like a date between England and China, which wasn't exactly a bad thing, but it hadn't been the original intention. They needed only to make the required reservations and call those whose assistance they required, and then all there was left to do was wait for a brighter day… whenever that would be….

Almost a week after the plan had been made, Wang Yao received a letter in the mail from his son. He dreaded opening it; afraid to find a sketch of a nude woman like the last few times Li had sent him something in the mail. It was honestly becoming a problem and Yao had an idea that his son was developing these bad habits because Arthur wasn't properly looking after him. As the boy's father, Yao felt that it was Arthur's job to talk to him about his sexual urges and teach him how to control it and to be safe when he couldn't. In fact, Arthur should have been teaching him about abstinence and the like, and then safety wouldn't be as important. After all, condoms are only ninety-eight percent effective while abstinence is one hundred percent guaranteed. Actually, Yao had already considered a few good-looking Asian girls to introduce his son to in hopes that he'd hit it off and marry one of them, but he just never seemed to get the chance. As it happened, when Li was at his mother's place, he was usually texting his friend, Iceland, whom was apparently not on good terms with Arthur… so maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

Still, the content of the letter worried him… until he turned it over to find that it was _not_ from Hong Kong, and was actually from the Chinese man's own younger brother. As it happened, Japan was in Italy and had invited his brother to dinner so they could catch up on the last few centuries over some well-deserved pasta. It would have seemed suspicious to Yao if he'd really thought about it. He was so excited that he began to pack immediately, and called his son so he could burst the over-flowing bubbliness that he just could no longer contain. He could predict that Hong Kong would wait three rings before picking up his cell, and from the sounds of things he was at the dinner table; even with his father scolding him in the background it stopped neither of them from carrying on a conversation.

"Ni hao, Ci Mu."

"Oh, Li! I just got a letter from Uncle Kiku, and he wants me to go to dinner with him this weekend! Isn't that exciting, aru?"

Li could practically taste his mother's excitement. "Yeah, that's great." No one would ever be able to tell that he was fighting his own excitement down furiously.

"It's going to be wonderful, aru! It's been so long since I've been him — he's such a shut in — and even though I know he likes to hang out with America and your father, neither of them will be there to bother us." He sounded so triumphant…. Li almost regretted his decision, but it was too late for that now. His plan had been set in motion. "Do you want to come too?"

"No, I'm busy this weekend. Listen, Ci Mu, we're in the middle of dinner so—"

"What are you having, aru?"

"Well, America's here, so he made—"

"Is Iceland there, aru? I guessed so because of the storms recently. He's causing a lot of trouble for you father isn't he?"

"Yes, he's here; and yes, Dad wasn't very happy. But he's—"

"Good. Let him stay that way." There was a short silence, and then a sigh from China's end. "There's someone on the other line, aru. I'll talk to you later, Li. Wo ai ni."

Li sighed, because he knew that there was no talking to his mother when he was all excited like this. It hurt him, but in a way a sort of familiarity dulled the pain. He couldn't remember a time in his life when his mother _hadn__'__t_ treated him this way, even at ten years old when he'd first returned to his mother's arms. And what a touching memory that was…. A few hours to get to know each other where Yao had spoke the best English he could before the Mandarin lessons began…. And because he really just wanted to spend time with his mother, he didn't mind so much. "Wo ye ai ni, Ci Mu." And that was one thing that he never spoke over.

Li hung up, trying to push down the feeling of emptiness as he poked his bacon cheeseburger almost dejectedly. A hand that lay under the table, balled into a fist, was covered by a cooler, paler one, and Li looked over at the neutral-faced Icelandic, for once unsure of his thoughts. It took him a minute, but he released the first, turning his hand over to grip onto Emil's and locked his eyes on his food. He knew that his cheeks were turning pink, and he felt the Icelandic's body heat up, and before he knew it the window to a peaceful night had been opened to allow cool air into the room. It shocked them both out of their moment and they looked up at Arthur where he stood, securing the drawn curtains.

"You two looked like you were getting a bit hot, so I opened a window." The answer to a question they hadn't asked, and the beginning of the conversation they were ready to start. "So what was that call about, then?"

"Mom wanted to tell me that he's going to Italy this weekend, and he wants you to meet him there."

There was a silence in the room that could break glass. Arthur was already rejecting the thought before Li could finish speaking and was just thinking of the best way to put it. Simply. "Absolutely not. Give me two good reasons why I should go all the way to Italy to have dinner with that raving lunatic of a nation? The only interactions I want with China are to pick you up every other week and to trade for cheap plastic toys built at the expense of labour abuse to young women bought away from their families like slaves. Sorry, I just don't deal with that sort of inhumanity."

Sadly enough Arthur had a point about the child slavery thing… but it was getting better — Li _knew_ it was! He had to keep his cool though. He had to give his father credit for being right, and was still pretty grateful for letting Emil stay for dinner after hearing the assessment of the damages to his home from the constant storms; but what had to be done had to be done. "You should go because one, Yao is my mother and he wants to talk civilly. And two? If you don't go… Sweden is here to make you."


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N:** I don't know what's wrong with me…. I've had a horrible time trying to write, but hopefully everyone's still with me.

Reading over this again, I realized that it's been more about Hong Kong and Iceland than England and China, so I'm going to try to right that in this chapter. I mean, obviously the side-plot of having Hong Kong and Iceland getting together as well is important, and I maybe should have mentioned that in the summary…. But that's not the point. The point is that I forgot what my point is but we'll try to get through this.

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><p><strong>The Scent of Water<br>**Chapter Four

"Oh no, it's England. What is _he_ doing here?"

Wang Yao sat at his table wearing his best clothes as he waited for his younger brother to show up. Unfortunately it had been two hours already and there was no sign of Kiku anywhere; Yao's first thought was that he had ditched out again in favour of staying back in the comfort and serenity of his own home. Rather rude, if you asked Yao. He hadn't even called ahead to warn that he wouldn't be able to make it, and worse than that he had abandoned Yao in the home of Feliciano Vargas where Arthur was now making his way steadily toward Yao with an eerie grin across his face. He looked… uncomfortable. What Yao didn't know is that Arthur was being forced into this every bit as much as Yao was, with Berwald Oxenstierna standing just out of sight to make sure that he didn't escape.

"Wow, China! Long time no see, huh?"

Unfortunately for both, this was going to get very tense very fast, and where Li and Emil were sitting, they could see this plainly. "I just saw you last weekend when you picked my son up and took him away to your land of big bushy eyebrows."

Their eyes locked and they glared silently at each other. It was obvious that Arthur was trying not to say anything in return, grinding his teeth, setting his jaw and taking deep breaths. He took a hold of the nearest seat and began to pull it out to sit down. "Mind if I sit?"

"Yes I do, aru."

He sat down anyway, which visibly angered the ancient nation, but Arthur just didn't care. He was more concerned about the deadly looking giant waiting just around the corner to snap him in half if he started anything. If he was correct, the boys were planning to hook him up with Yao for whatever reason because no matter what they said none of it made any sense to him whatsoever. Still… if that's what it took to get Sweden off his back, he'd do it. Of course he would…. "China, there are some things we should discuss while we're both here."

"What do I have to discuss with _you_?" The absolute hostility made Arthur recoil, but it didn't end there. "I'm still mad at you for the Opium War, taking my son, and sharing me among your friends in the Second World War."

"I did not _share_ you; and furthermore they're not my friends. If you had more defence than just that stupid wall, maybe they wouldn't have been able to invade you so easily. It's your own stupid fault you're so vulnerable."

"I have wonderful defence, aru!"

"Pfft, obviously not if we were able to take advantage of you so easily."

At this point it could only escalate until all the other customers were running for their lives. It was only a verbal battle, but the aura in the room rivalled that of Russia, and that warded people off, scared them, made them uncomfortable. Li and Emil were forced to leave with the crowd, but Berwald stayed behind, dressed as a waiter and crossed the room silently to break up the fight. At the sight of the Nordic, both nations were silent. They were served a fine Italian wine of Feliciano's own choosing and a plate of spaghetti to share, almost in hopes of re-enacting the scene from _Lady and the Tramp_ but it didn't seem that any such thing was going to happen now. As it stood, both nations were treading carefully so as not to tip off the giant standing across the room from them. In all actuality, Berwald wasn't quite sure why he was here. He knew that Emil had asked him to help them set up a date with Arthur and Yao, and because the boys' intentions were pure he decided to help them however he could. That meant that if he had to serve pasta and wine to two nations in a bitter relationship in a fancy Italian restaurant, then he would. He was unaware that he was really only being used as a motivator for the two to get over their problems and maybe bring them closer, if not together.

Everything was silent as the two split the plate down the middle and agreed to eat in peace. They had to with Berwald watching them from across the room like that. They kept to themselves, saying nothing, and all was calm until Arthur happened to look up and notice that Yao was having trouble spiralling the spaghetti noodles onto his fork. It elicited a short chuckle from the Brit who reached over and took the back of Yao's hand to show him what he was doing wrong.

"Don't touch me, aru." Yao pulled his hand away with one deft tug and that was it. Arthur dropped his hand back to his lap and focused on his half of the plate, only listening to Yao rant about using forks to eat noodles and wishing he'd brought a pair of chopsticks.

"What would it take to make you forgive me?" The question came out of nowhere and took the Asian by surprise. The two stared at each other for a moment, Arthur's emerald eyes intense.

"What is there to forgive? You haven't even apologized, aru."

"Out of curiousity, if I apologized…."

"Not even in your wildest dreams, England."

"Alright. It's a start."

Yao huffed audibly and frowned, staring down at the plate as he fumbled with the spaghetti noodles. Arthur's stomach twisted, feeling another couple of sets of eyes on him and Yao though he couldn't be sure where the feeling was coming from. He didn't say anything; if he even breathed in the wrong direction he had a feeling Yao was going to jump on it and chew his ear off again. Yao…. He turned his eyes on the older nation, wetting his lips with a sip of wine. Smooth honey-coloured skin, soft black-brown hair, and big deep brown eyes…. His features were delicate and feminine; the very way he moved and drew breath was serene and peaceful. There was a pressure building in the back of Arthur's throat and he wasn't sure what it was… that lump…. Guilt. Yes, he should've thought a little more about trying to force Yao to get high with him… about forcing himself on the other nation…. But no, he hadn't shared Yao among the others as a slave in World War II — the others had simply seen an opportunity and took advantage of it; Yao had left himself wide open for that. As if he would ever admit it though.

Arthur took the napkin off his lap and dabbed at his mouth with it, setting it on the table and pushing his chair back. "I'm sorry, I have another engagement I must attend. You'll be fine on your own?"

"More than fine, thank you."

Arthur nodded once, almost dumbly. "Well then I'll—"

"And don't expect to see my son again. You mistreat him, you don't teach him what he needs to learn… you are hardly a father to him. It's not fair for him to grow up in that environment. Time for him to man up and get married." Yao very calmly managed to lift a forkful of noodles and placed them in his mouth in a matter-of-fact sort of way.

"…What?"

"You heard me. Li stays in China, where he belongs."

"No, you can't do that." Arthur slammed his hands down, and Yao's eyes travelled rather coolly from the table and up to Arthur's shoulders. Why couldn't he look into the Brit's eyes? "He's my son too, and I deserve to be able to see him!"

"On what grounds? You're a failure of a father; just look at what you did to America."

"I love him. I know that's a difficult concept for you to grasp, China, but it's true."

"I love him as well; that's why I'm taking him away from you. It's final. I'll take you to court for custody if I have to."

Sitting outside an open window, Li froze, listening to this conversation. This wasn't how this was supposed to be going. No_. No, no, no!_ They were supposed to be getting along, talking and laughing and…. No, wait. Why was this supposed to work again? Because Berwald was standing ten feet away, picking something out from underneath his fingernail? No! He felt stupid. He felt empty. He felt torn apart. He couldn't tell his mother that he didn't want to stay in China forever because he actually liked England (would his mother even listen?), and he couldn't tell his father that he was actually a terrible parent (because, let's face it, he was). He couldn't even tell them that the reason he was withdrawing was because their feuding in public like this embarrassed him, scaring away the Italian citizens…. He heaved a sigh, listening as they both claimed to love him, but did they really? Yeah, of course…. They just didn't realize what they were doing to him was all. It had always been about their feud. Li couldn't remember a time when they had put anything aside just to be his parents. _That_ was what he wanted for his eighteenth birthday… for Yao and Arthur to act civilly toward each other long enough to see him open his presents, blow out his candles, and wish him well in life. One hour. Just one hour of their lives, that was all it would take.

That cold hand covered his as he turned his back and sat down on the ground. When had Emil sat in the flowerbed next to him? What was he doing? Nonetheless, it was the only support he had now as the fight escalated inside once more — _"You're power-hungry and you've done nothing but pick on the defenceless since you first learned that the world was round! Get your head out of your ass!"_ — and he leaned over to bury his face in Emil's brown jacket while the silverette stroked his hair soothingly. "It's okay, Hong Kong. There's got to be another way."

"There isn't. That's it. Didn't you hear Ci Mu, Iceland? If I don't go he's just going to get angry, so I don't even have a choice. What if I never see you again?" His voice was still monotone, but it was softer, almost weaker. His face didn't heat or turn colours, but Emil could still feel the wet spots on his shoulder, and his hand froze for a moment, sliding down to wrap around Li's body and pulled him so much closer.

"You'll see me again. Until then we'll just text, right?"

"It's not the same. It's not like being _with_ you."

Emil knew what that meant. He could see that Li was already lonely what with the fight going on between his parents right now, and the last thing he needed was to be alone without someone he knew he could trust. It gave Emil an idea. "Why don't you come stay with me? We'll just run off back to my place and we won't tell anyone where you are. No one needs to know, right? And then we can—"

What a strange feeling…. Li had pulled back out of the hug, he'd pressed his lips to Emil's forehead, and now he was lacing his fingers with the Icelandic's colder ones. "Yeah, let's get out of here before they calm down." And the two scrambled out of the bushes, bound for Emil's home on the chilly little island across from the Kirkland residence — the last place anyone would look.


End file.
